


We All Have a Hunger

by Columbidae (Axolotl)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eating Disorders, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Miscommunication, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 06:30:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axolotl/pseuds/Columbidae
Summary: It wasn’t a lot, but it felt like more than a number.  It felt like a score.  Like he was failing something, and no matter how hard he worked, he was never going to stop failing.Retirement leaves Yuuri more prone to weight gain, and his insecurities get out of hand.





	We All Have a Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> whoa a new fic!! bet yall thought i was dead lol.
> 
> Kinda a sloppy quickie with no betaing or anything like that, forgive me.
> 
> Anyway this fic has some PRETTY strong ED-related content, so like. Trigger warning and all that. Happy ending but Trigger Warning.

Yuuri felt his heart sink as he stared at the digital number displayed by his toes.

For several months since his retirement, he’d watched that number creep steadily upward. His late twenties were not going to be kind to him, it seemed. Without the intensive skating practice to keep him fit, his usual gym visits with Victor and leisurely skating sessions were doing little to keep his weight in check. Every day, he stood on their scale hoping for some comfort, and almost never received it.

The number caused a panic in him that was as familiar as it was unwelcome. In the past, he’d gained more weight than this. He’d feel depressed, he’d eat, he’d get fat, and getting fat would make him more depressed. Downward spirals eventually hit rock bottoms. Rock bottoms usually entailed diet restrictions that were not entirely healthy, and certainly not recommended for an athlete. Thankfully, in college, he’d had Phichit to help curb that habit for a time, and distract him from his own head just enough to keep him afloat.

Now, Yuuri was older. He had a good life ahead of him – He had a loving husband, a beautiful home, and there was no shortage of love or success in his life. But old habits die hard, and once more, that scale he stood on felt like a betrayal, a wrong he needed to right.

“Good morning!”

Yuuri whirled around, feeling caught in the act. Victor stood there in the doorway to their en suite, looking far too awake and perfect for seven in the morning, even in just his briefs. Especially in just his briefs. Three years of retirement never stopped him from looking perfect.

“Hey,” Yuuri greeted, and stepped forward for a good morning kiss. When he pulled away, Victor chased after his lips for a second one.

“I’m making waffles.” Victor sounded very proud of that fact. “I have fruit and chocolate and whipped cream and everything! What would you like on yours?”

Yuuri chuckled. “We had a cheat day two days ago, Vitya.”

“You’re retired - live a little!” Victor scooped Yuuri’s face up into his hands, pulling him into another kiss. “Strawberries and whipped cream for you, then?” 

Yuuri smiled, trying not to portray the vague feeling of dread he felt in the pit of his stomach. “Maybe just the strawberries.”

*****

A pound.

A whole month Yuuri had been cutting back on food, eliminating anything sweet (anything that made eating enjoyable, really), and he’d… gained a pound.

It wasn’t a lot, but it felt like more than a number. It felt like a score. Like he was failing something, and no matter how hard he worked, he was never going to stop failing. Control was slipping from his grip like grains of sand.

He’d stepped on the scale naked, and as he stepped off, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Oh yes. Definitely a softer stomach than when he’d left skating. A gold for his final season could not save him from this failure. He pinched the flesh by his hip, digging his nails in, wishing he could tear it off.

Oh. That felt familiar.

He met his own gaze in the mirror, leaned his hands on the sink’s edge. _You don’t have to keep fighting,_ he tried to remind himself. His inner voice sounded a lot like Phichit when it offered encouragement. _You’ve won, plenty of times. You’ve proven your worth to the whole world. You married Victor Nikiforov, for god's sake. A few pounds won’t kill you._

_But when does it stop?_ Another voice more like his own piped up. _Will it only be a few pounds? Or will it become more if I let it, like last time?_

He looked down at his body, feeling that same disgust he used to feel, just as potent as it was before all his successes. He had everything he could ever ask for in life, true, but then didn’t that mean he had more to lose?

_What would you lose by gaining a little weight?_

Personal pride, he thought. He was more in the public eye than he had been before Victor had come into his life to coach him, and while that attention was bound to die down some with his retirement, he couldn’t stomach the idea of an article on some sports site being written about how fat retiring had made Katsuki Yuuri. Letting himself go, they might call it. He couldn’t let go. He needed to control this.

“Yuuri!” He heard his husband call from the bedroom. Victor knocked on the bathroom door, and Yuuri had only just enough time to grab a towel to wrap around himself before the door opened.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going for a jog to the store.” Victor’s eyes roamed down Yuuri’s body, as they always did when he showed a bit of skin. Usually Yuuri found it flattering, amusing, arousing. Now, it felt like scrutiny. “Did you want me to pick up anything?”

“Um…” Yuuri glanced back at the mirror. He could certainly use a jog. “Maybe I could join you?”

“Were you not about to shower?” Victor gestured at his husband’s nakedness.

“Oh—No, just, um… getting changed.”

“Oh…” Victor looked around, likely noting the lack of new outfit in the bathroom. Luckily for Yuuri, he didn’t mention it. “Alright! I’ll be in the living room!”

*****

Yuuri started wearing pajamas again.

Before meeting Victor, that would have been a normal thing. Sleeping naked had been anathema to him for a long time, but after a while, he’d picked up a few habits from his partner. 

Now, Yuuri couldn’t bear the thought of walking out of the bathroom in just his underwear. He’s begun to hate being so exposed. Even showers had become emotionally draining, and he found himself rushing through them.

It wasn’t normal for Yuuri to have such reservations about being naked in front of his own husband, and he knew that. But the mirror today had only shown more disappointment, and he didn’t want to see that disappointment reflected in Victor’s eyes. Magazines and tabloids may not yet have picked up on Yuuri’s weight gain, but if there was one person whose love he couldn’t bear losing, it was Victor’s. Memories of when Victor arrived in Hatsetsu surfaced, of his demand for a stricter diet and workout regimen. At the time, Yuuri had felt determined by it, inspired, but now those memories were passing through a new filter and all he could remember was being called a piggy.

Victor wasn’t calling him a pig now. Now, he was spooning up behind Yuuri in bed. The hand slipping beneath Yuuri’s shirt to touch the soft flesh of his stomach was meant to be a loving caress, but it felt like a callout. Lips pressed to his neck, making a path up to his ear. Yuuri certainly wasn’t numb to it, but arousal was being repeatedly beaten back with the fear of being naked and seen and felt.

“Hm?” Victor hummed a wordless question into Yuuri’s hair as his hand traveled further down. Yuuri took a little longer to respond than usual, even as his blood rushed south and his breath stuttered. It wasn’t until Victor’s lips were at the corner of his mouth, his erection pressed to Yuuri’s ass, that Yuuri found his words.

“Maybe another night?”

Everything paused, except the frantic beating of Yuuri’s heart.

Victor pulled back a bit with a sigh – a sigh that was probably just him trying to control his breathing, but sounded more put-out when heard through the filter Yuuri had begun to perceive the world through. “Oh?”

“Sorry—”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just— my stomach’s a bit off, I guess.”

Yuuri should have thought of some other ailment, because now Victor was rubbing a hand over his stomach, cooing sympathetically. “Something you ate?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri turned his face into his pillow. “Must’ve been.”

*****

Two months passed in which Yuuri jogged more and ate less. The scale’s number had dropped, but it brought him no relief. Somehow, his reflection in the mirror showed nothing encouraging, and he could only feel worse and worse.

It became something like a sick game in his mind: How long could he go without a meal? He had at least one a day, usually, when Victor and he cooked dinner and he couldn’t find an excuse to skip out that wouldn’t raise suspicions. But if he could find a way out, he would. If he could limit his portions, he did. He felt awful, he was exhausted all the time, but something in him was beginning to relax when he found ways to abstain from food.

It’d never been this bad, he realized. At least, it hadn’t been this bad in a long time.

But he only began to feel guilty when he saw its effects on Victor. Victor didn’t know just how little Yuuri ate, but he did know how often he was gone, how little time they spent together when Yuuri went out without warning for a jog. He knew how little Yuuri wanted to be touched now.

His first reactions had been concern. _“Are you feeling alright?”_ had been asked numerous times. _“Maybe you should see a doctor, Yuuri,”_ had been suggested. _“Do you want to talk about it? Where are you going off to today? Can I come with you?”_

And then the one that broke Yuuri: “Who’d you go to see?”

It caught him off guard. Victor asked it as he stood in the bathroom, hunched over the sink and washing off some new face crème he’d been wearing. Beauty regimens were not unusual for Victor, but Yuuri had noticed the number of skin care products increasing these past couple months.

“What do you mean?”

Victor shrugged. “You’re out so often. Just wondering if you’ve made a friend.”

Yuuri blinked at him a moment. “I went to the gym, you know that.”

“At six in the evening?”

“Where did you think I was going?”

Victor sighed, toweling off his face. “I don’t know,” he said at length. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest anything. You’ve just been a little distant lately, and I… I worry, I guess.”

The defensiveness Yuuri felt became tinged with guilt. Perhaps Victor had a right to be suspicious. Yuuri had been neglecting him lately; he’d gone to bed every night in full pajamas, he hadn’t let Victor touch him in over a month, and he’d skipped out on their usual lunch dates between Victor’s coaching sessions at the rink.

“I’m not cheating on you.”

Victor’s shoulders stiffened. His gaze stayed down, away from Yuuri’s. “I didn’t say you were.”

“I know you didn’t say, but you were thinking it.”

Victor had no response to that.

Somehow, that irritated Yuuri. More and more things had begun to irritate him lately. The lack of sugar in his diet probably didn’t help. Either way, he knew he had no right to that anger, so he stifled it with a sigh.

“I’m going to take a shower.” 

With a nod, Victor left the bathroom. Yuuri watched him go before closing the door and pressing his forehead against it. Great. This was one more thing he’d need to fix.

The water was hot, scorching Yuuri’s back. It felt good. Cathartic. He rinsed the sweat off his body, rinsed away the fat. But watching the water run off his body, he felt his guilt over Victor grow. 

He’d wanted to be someone worthy of a world-famous athlete, and here he was, being an awful husband. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Victor anymore. Victor had made several attempts to get Yuuri’s attention – walking into the kitchen naked after a shower, doing stretches in the bedroom in nothing but his underwear, using almost any opportunity to bend over around Yuuri and show off his perfect ass – and Yuuri noticed. He wanted him. And before retirement, that kind of lust for his husband wouldn’t have been so complicated.

Now, it felt tainted in a way. Yuuri saw his husband’s still-perfect body and felt both a need to push him onto the bed and have his way, and a need to cut back his own carb intake. Victor’s body became a model for comparison. To his own shock, Yuuri realized he was jealous.

God, he was an awful husband. He needed to make up for it.

He entered the bedroom in his underwear and a T-shirt. Victor didn’t seem to notice at first; he was holding his phone up and poking his face in a way that suggested he was inspecting himself in his camera. Frowning, he lifted the corner of his eye with a finger, pulling the skin taut. Yuuri crawled onto the bed beside him.

“What’re you doing?” he asked softly. Victor looked up and put his phone down.

“I don’t know if some of those crèmes are working,” he sighed, and after a moment, admitted, “I… thought about maybe going to a doctor.”

Yuuri frowned. “A doctor?”

“For this.” Victor pointed under his eye. There were lines beneath it, but they were lines Victor had had since he was young. It was something Yuuri had noted when he’d spent long nights watching Victor’s face beside him in bed, but had never thought to consider unattractive. Just a feature of his face, as handsome as any other bit of it.

Yuuri pulled the covers over his lap. “What’s wrong with your eye?”

“The skin there, it’s all…” He pulled out his phone again, inspecting his face. “… Old.”

“Victor, you’re thirty-two.”

“And not getting any younger.” He chuckled, but it lacked any mirth.

Yuuri reached out for Victor’s phone. “So what, you’re getting surgery because you don’t like your eyes?”

Victor took his phone back, but stared down at his lap, looking chastised. “No, I wouldn’t go that far. Just… shots, maybe. I dunno.”

Yuuri frowned at him. “Victor, you’re _thirty-two.”_

Victor was quiet a moment. “… Want to look good for you,” he eventually muttered. Yuuri stared at him.

“What?”

Victor shrugged a shoulder. His arms crossed in a defensive gesture. Yuuri scooted closer, turning to face him.

“Why do you think you need to get botox for me?”

“It was just a thought.”

“But why are you thinking it?”

Victor sighed, and something in his voice got emotional. Like some dam was about to burst with long-held emotions. “Because I don’t want you getting tired of me!”

Yuuri gaped. _“… What?”_

Running a hand through his hair, Victor slumped back against the headboard. “You know… You married _me._ Victor Nikiforov. Olympic gold medalist? World famous athlete? Number three on the Sexiest Men Alive list?”

Yuuri continued to gape, feeling more and more confused. “Yeah?”

“Well… I’m not going to be number three forever. I’m not always going to be that man you married. I’m going to get old, I’m going to get ugly – eventually – and you’re…” He swallowed, and his face twisted in a way that twisted Yuuri’s heart. “You’re going to get bored of looking at me. I think you already have.”

Yuuri was almost surprised he couldn’t hear an audible shatter from his heart breaking in his chest.

_God,_ he was the worst husband alive, wasn’t he?

“Victor…” Yuuri reached for him, pulled him into a tight hug. “No… That’s not…” Victor clung to him, apparently hungry for the contact, and Yuuri never felt so selfish. “You have no idea how beautiful I think you are. I’ll always think you’re beautiful.”

“Why should you?” Victor hid his face in his husband’s shirt. “I’m retired, I’m a has-been. I’m not winning any medals. Nearly all of my records are broken now. I’m getting old—“

“Stop it.” Yuuri pulled back, holding Victor’s face in his hands to look him in the eye. Victor had tears clinging to his silver eyelashes, like dew on the morning grass. His eyes were wet and sparkled a crystal blue. Even when he cried, he was heartbreakingly gorgeous, and Yuuri could not understand for the life of him how he could look past all that beauty to find a few wrinkles. 

“I didn’t marry you for all that.” He swept Victor’s bangs out from his eyes. “I didn’t marry you because you were famous, Victor. Or even because you’re handsome. I admired you for all those things when I was younger, but you know why I married you?” Victor shook his head, and Yuuri sighed. “Because you’re amazing, for reasons that have nothing to do with skating. You’re funny and caring and gentle. You helped me be a better person – You inspired me every day, and you still do. None of that’s changed.”

Victor’s gaze fell. “… And you still think I’m handsome?” he muttered.

“I still think you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met.”

“You still love me?”

Yuuri felt his face crumple. He wiped the tears from Victor’s cheeks. “Of course I do.”

Victor was silent a long moment. He leaned back into Yuuri. “… Tell me what’s wrong, then. I can’t figure it out, Yuuri, and you don’t tell me anything anymore.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Yuuri automatically insisted.

Victor pulled away, giving Yuuri a bemused look. “I’m not stupid, you know. I know you, and I know when something’s wrong. I just never know what it is until you tell me!”

Now it was Yuuri’s turn to shrink. His gaze fell. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s never nothing, Yuuri.” Victor sounded frustrated, and it only made Yuuri sink further down into the bed. This wasn’t the discussion he’d wanted to have. This wasn’t how he’d planned on trying to fix things tonight. It would have been so much simpler if he could have given Victor a blowjob, cuddled, called it repayment for all the intimacy they’d been lacking and gone to bed. Discussions and communication had become a regular, healthy part of their relationship, but right now, Yuuri wanted something easier.

But Victor wasn’t going to let him off so easily, it seemed.

“Just my head,” Yuuri finally admitted, sticking to the truth but omitting a fair amount of it. “I’ll sort it out myself, it’s fine.”

“No.” Victor grabbed Yuuri’s hand, holding it firm, even as Yuuri could see him scowling from the corner of his eye. “We agreed a long time ago, these aren’t things you sort out alone anymore. You don’t have to sort them out alone. Even if it’s just your head.”

Still, Yuuri was silent. Emotion was beginning to constrict his throat. The tables had turned on him so unexpectedly, and now he felt exposed in a way he’d been trying to avoid.

“Is it to do with us?” Victor asked.

“No…” _Maybe a little._

“Is it me? Something I’m doing?”

“No…”

“Where do you go when you jog?”

“Around the city, nowhere I haven’t told you about…”

“Who do you go with?” The questions were getting more probing, but there wasn’t a suspicion or jealousy behind them now. Only a need to know more.

“No one…”

“You’ve skipped all our lunches these past couple months. And several dinners. Where are you then?”

“I’m jogging, Victor.”

“You’re not at home – Who are you having lunch with?”

“I’m not.”

“Not eating with anyone?”

Yuuri threw off Victor’s hand in frustration. “No!”

Victor stared at him. “… You’re eating alone?” Something in his voice and line of questioning told Yuuri he was putting the pieces together. He hid his face in his hands.

“No…”

A silence lapsed between them. Yuuri felt himself shaking. He felt cold and naked. He pulled the duvet up around him. Victor’s voice grew softer, yet still more desperate.

“You’re not eating?”

Yuuri didn’t answer.

“And you’re… really out jogging that much?”

Yuuri didn’t answer.

A hand stroked through his hair – Hair that had grown longer, but was getting thinner lately – and Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut.

“Yuuri…”

“I told you.” _Fuck,_ now his voice was choked. How was he supposed to do damage control when he was this emotional? “I’ll sort it out myself.”

But then he was pulled into a crushing embrace. Victor was shaking. _“Solnyshko…”_

Just like that, the fight left him. Defensiveness and guilt and embarrassment gave way quickly to some deep, unnamed emotion he’d had locked away in his chest for a very long time. When it was let out, all Yuuri could do was curl up in his husband’s embrace and let the tears flow. Victor’s arms were the only place he could hide now.

“Why?” Victor sounded like he was going to cry again. It surprised Yuuri a little.

It took him a long time to answer. “… I-I was getting fat.” What other reason would he have?

“No, you weren’t.” Victor ran a firm hand up and down Yuuri’s back. “And even if you were, so what? You’re not skating anymore, Yuuri, it’s alright to gain a few pounds.”

Yuuri’s voice was muffled in his husband’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t want me fat… You didn’t before.”

Finally, Victor pulled away, holding Yuuri by the shoulders and looking at him in horror. “When do you think I’ve ever not wanted you?”

Yuuri couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. “When you came to Hatsetsu—“

Victor let out a joyless laugh. “Yuuri, of _course_ I wanted you in Hatsetsu! I went to Hatsetsu for you!”

“You called me a piggy… Told me I needed to lose weight…”

“Oh, Yuuri…” Victor cupped his face in his hands, forcing Yuuri to look up again. Tears were collecting in his blue eyes. “I hadn’t meant—It was for skating. I wanted you then, but you’d pushed me away.”

Yuuri’s frown turned confused. “How—How could you have wanted me then?”

“How could I not! Yuuri, I’ve been through all the reasons you made me love you again and again, when will you believe me?”

Yuuri shrugged half-heartedly. “It wasn’t – I… I don’t like getting fat, Victor, it wasn’t just you…”

Victor went quiet. After a moment, he pulled Yuuri back into his chest, kissing his hair. “What else was it?”

“What other reason do I need?” God, he felt exhausted.

“There’s always another reason, Yuuri.”

That caught Yuuri off guard somehow. It wasn’t something he’d thought about. The need to be fit seemed self-explanatory. Even if his methods were extreme, a dislike for gaining weight was not an uncommon motivator.

And what threw him off more was how Victor had said it. How knowing he sounded.

Victor let them be silent a long time. He rocked Yuuri a bit where they sat, stroking his hair. While it should have felt patronizing, Yuuri did find comfort in it. He felt exposed, raw. He’d been seen and felt in a way he hadn’t let Victor see or feel him in a long time. But if he needed to be seen by anyone, Victor was the safest person he knew.

The attention still stung, but less like a salt in a wound. More like an antiseptic.

Finally, without prompting this time, Yuuri spoke.

“It feels like failing.” Victor was silent, but his hand rubbed Yuuri’s shoulder in silent acknowledgement that he was listening. “After all I’ve been through… I’m afraid to fail again.”

“You have nothing to lose now, Yuuri,” Victor said softly. “I’m not going anywhere. Your friends aren’t going anywhere. You’ll never have any shortage of love in your life. You never did.”

There was something healing about hearing him say that. Victor had told him something similar numerous times through their relationship, but it’d been a long time since Yuuri had needed to hear it so badly.

“I’m afraid of going back to how I was, when I left America.” Yuuri let his eyes slip shut, took a steadying breath. “Like… Like if I went back to the way I was physically, I might emotionally, too.”

Victor stayed silent. Yuuri kept going.

“I guess… I guess my life’s been so good these past few years. You’ve made me so happy. And I just never really felt like I deserved it. So… I’m waiting for something to take that away.”

This was going farther than Yuuri expected it too. He thought he was getting a little off topic, but then Victor spoke.

“You’re waiting to lose control of it?”

Yuuri looked up at him. “What?”

Victor moved a bit of hair from his face. “You think if you lose control of your weight, you’ll lose control of your life again?”

Yuuri thought about it. It was a bit of insight he hadn’t expected from Victor.

He gave Yuuri a sad, knowing smile. “You know… For me, it was control. My whole life had been controlled for me, ever since I was little. What I ate, how often I practiced, what I could do with my free time. My whole life was controlled by skating. I loved it, but… I never felt like I controlled it, you know?”

Yuuri gaped at him. _For him?_ He hadn’t…

Victor’s cheeks burned a little as he continued, telling things to Yuuri he’d never exposed to him before. “Yakov always told me what I could and couldn’t eat, but when he wasn’t looking, I took some control over it. I threw a bit out. I skipped meals.” He got a far-off look in his eyes. His smile was so sad. “… Everyone talked about how beautiful I looked, but inside, I felt sick. So I tried to look sick. I tried to show them how frail I felt.”

“Victor…”

“It didn’t last long,” he continued. “Yakov found out soon enough, when my outfits weren’t fitting me anymore and my performance was suffering, and he… Well, first he got mad, as I’m sure you can imagine. But then he got me some help.”

Yuuri felt his throat burn. He swallowed around it. “When…?”

“When I was about seventeen. Around the time I cut my hair. It only lasted a few months, but… Every now and then, I would want to do it again.” His thumb stroked Yuuri’s cheek. “… It’s a hard habit to quit, hm?”

Yuuri felt his lower jaw tremble. Reaching up, he pulled Victor down into another embrace, needing to hold him. He needed to comfort as much as he needed comforting. Victor held him, rested his cheek against Yuuri’s hair, and took in a long, rattling breath.

“Don’t hide from me when you’re hurting, Yuuri,” he whispered. “I'm not letting you fight alone.”

Guilt and relief both washed over Yuuri. He’d spent much of his life trying to fight his battles by himself, trying to avoid burdening others with his own problems. There were many habits he had that were hard to quit. But here Victor was, doing what he did best: meeting Yuuri on his level, offering his unwavering support. A rock Yuuri could tether himself to when he felt adrift.

After a time, when their tears had a chance to dry and the storm in Yuuri’s head had a chance to calm down, he felt Victor nuzzle his hair. His voice was a little rough when he spoke, but warm all the same. “You know… It wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone about this, hm? Besides me, I mean. Another person to go to when you’re feeling overwhelmed, who can help.”

Yuuri frowned. “You want me to see someone?”

“It’s up to you. It helped me when I was younger, though. I could name a couple people right here in St. Petersburg who are good with this sort of thing. If you wanted, I could even go with you. Or not.”

The thought of it left a sour taste in Yuuri’s mouth. It was hard enough exposing this part of himself to Victor. How could he talk to a total stranger? Growing up, the commonly held beliefs about that sort of "help" hadn't exactly been positive. It’d be an admission that Yuuri had let at least one part of himself go – If not his body, then his mind.

But, well… If the great Victor Nikiforov had gone through it, how awful could that make Yuuri?

In any case, right then, Yuuri was far too exhausted to make a decision. His head felt filled with cotton, and the rest of him felt empty, drained.

“You’ll let me think about it?”

“Of course, _solnyshko.”_ Victor kissed the top of his head. “Sleep. I’ve got you.”

Yuuri had spent a long time running, lately. Perhaps he deserved a little rest.

*****

The following months would see Yuuri with a new routine.

He continued his gym sessions, though usually with Victor around. The two of them made a sort of date out of it, four days a week. A light lunch followed by a workout. Nothing quite as strenuous as Yuuri had been doing by himself, and his body began to thank him for it. It left him less drained and more energized. And he found exercise much more enjoyable when each sit-up was rewarded with a kiss from his husband.

Working out began to feel good, again. The burn in Yuuri's lungs no longer felt like punishment. The old rush he used to get from running had returned, now that he had the energy to do it.

Victor ate lunch with him most days, as he had done before. He started Yuuri off light, offering regular, small snacks. He didn't push meals on him, but encouraged small changes. The food they did eat was often healthy, low in carbs, and Yuuri had the suspicion that Victor's dietitian had been advising him.

It helped. Yuuri had bad days, of course. In the beginning, the food not only intimidated him still, but left him feeling physically ill. A familiar guilt - the kind he experienced when he missed jumps during practice, not so long ago - would grip his heart. But with Victor's patience and distracting conversation, that feeling dulled.

He did see someone. After some introspection, he supposed he should have been seeing someone for a long time, for a long list of reasons. And like a lot of things, he realized, he'd made it out to be much scarier than it actually would be.

After five or so months, Yuuri found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror - the same mirror that had judged him so harshly months prior. In it, he saw himself. He saw that despite the exercise and meal plans, there was a bit of extra flesh on his stomach, hips and chest. He saw a bit of roundness to his face that he hadn't seen in years. 

And behind him, he saw his husband step close, wrapping his arms around Yuuri's middle, hands pressing against the softness of his stomach as he kissed the shell of Yuuri's ear.

"Good morning, beautiful."

Yuuri smiled at him in the mirror, seeing a love in his husband's eyes that never seemed to stop growing.


End file.
